


Bleeding Out

by notoriousdre



Series: Twist the Knife and Watch It Bleed [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Failwolf, Failwolf Friday, M/M, Pining, pre-Sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoriousdre/pseuds/notoriousdre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one thing Derek Hale never planned for was Stiles Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

This was not how things were supposed to go. 

When Peter bit Scott, Derek wasn't under any illusions that things would magically work out. He didn't think he'd feel better. He didn't think Scott would jump into his arms, accept him as Alpha, and together they would build a pack. The long forgotten, warm sensations of pack, family, and bond wouldn't come rushing back to him like lost friends. He wasn't under any illusions that would come true. But he had foolishly let himself hope. 

Hope was a fickle thing he despised. It gave a glimmer of light in the darkest of times; it was a trickster that made empty promises and manipulated people. It made him think Scott could possibly be on his side, that Peter wasn't a raging psychopath, and that he could contain _teenagers_ for his Betas. Derek didn't know when he'd thought that was a good idea, but after the fiasco with the Kanima Scott jumped back on his fence, Erica and Boyd ran, and Jackson was an even bigger prick than before. Lydia knew everything that was going on, but didn't like being asked for help: fine because Derek hated asking. Allison and her father stopped hunting, but he didn't trust her; she didn’t trust him either. Even with Erica and Boyd back there was this rift, which he wanted to blame on Isaac's new, closer relationship with Scott, but knew he only had himself to blame for. 

Despite all these unexpected events he'd made plans. Derek had never been the plan-maker or the best at judging a situation ( _see_ : Kate Argent), but he thought he'd had a grasp on how to do this. His mother and sister made being Alpha look so flawlessly easy. Talia was powerful and magnanimous. Laura was both of those things, yet softer and more emotional; to her benefit she had a pack of two, her younger brother being the other member, so she kind of had to be. He'd made plans to get Scott in his pack. Those failed. So he made new ones. Those failed. He made contingency plans for after they either saved Jackson or killed him. Most of those were currently crumbling around his feet. 

The one thing Derek Hale never planned for was Stiles Stilinski. 

The teenager was _infuriating_. He was loud and rambunctious. He couldn't keep his mouth shut and he flailed like he couldn't control those unseemly limbs. He was impossibly smart, self-sacrificing, and secretly tough as nails, hiding behind a jester's mask. His fashion sense was nonexistent, he constantly smelled like fast food and semen. And Derek was hopelessly in love with him. 

Ever since Stiles spent two hours holding him afloat in a pool Derek couldn't stop thinking about him. The infatuation started before that, when they'd worked together to figure out who the rogue Alpha was. However when he had Stiles spitting chlorine water in his face and snarking about how heavy he was (because he was a _wall of muscle_ , thanks) something clicked. In the middle of all that danger and chaos the only thing running through his mind was how _nice_ this was. Someone was caring about his safety, protecting him, and treating him like he mattered. Sure he was an Alpha werewolf and could fend for himself. He didn't _need_ anyone fawning over him or treating him like he was breakable. But now he wanted that concern.

Stiles was always there, too, when Derek needed company. Not that he knew it since Derek always masked it as a need for research or to ask where Scott was. However increasingly, in the months before the Alpha Pack came to town, he'd found excuses to creep into Stiles's bedroom.

Because **_creep_** was the only correct definition for Derek anymore. He was twenty-four. A grown ass man who hung around teenagers, lurked in the dark, stood in the background of their lacrosse matches and cross country races, and waited in their rooms, in the dark, until they got home. Sometimes, admittedly, it was fun to see Stiles nearly have a heart attack, and the one time he'd gotten Lydia still made him laugh. But lusting after someone who was sixteen, a virgin in every way, and totally off limits because of _all the reasons_ was unacceptable. 

"Derek? Hell-ooo?"

Pale hazel eyes blinked and flickered across the room. They were in his loft, which was spacious enough for him and Isaac, when Isaac decided he was tired of Scott's or Erica's or Boyd's houses, and provided a roof over his head. The old train car had been a fantastic play-and-training ground, but wasn't a suitable living space. The hunters had found it and considering the extent to which he was now involved in other peoples' lives, he figured he ought to have a real place to stay. Or, rather, the pack had insisted he get a real place to stay. 

"What?"

Scott and Isaac growled, both throwing up their hands in frustration. They'd just gone on a fifteen-minute rant about a plan they had to stop the Alpha Pack, or their hypotheses about what the pack's plans might be, and Derek missed all of it. Boyd lounged comfortably in the corner of the couch, eying Derek carefully. Erica glared at him. 

"Are you serious right now?" she spat. 

Derek looked at her and scowled. The three of them were getting along better now, working on their relationships, but it was hard. They still didn't trust him, didn't want to be in the middle of all this supernatural bullshit, and he felt guilty for dragging them into it. But there was no escape. For any of them. 

"Where's Stiles?" he asked, distracted as he looked around the loft. 

Jackson rolled his eyes and stood up, heading to the fridge to refresh his and Lydia's drinks. "For the fifth time, Derek, not here," he said in his quick, snarky way, eyes big and eyebrows raised. Like Derek was slow or something. He fucking hated Jackson. 

Turning on Scott he repeated himself, which he hated but had learned in a pack of teens was necessary. "Where's Stiles?"

Scott scoffed and rolled his eyes. He gestured dramatically to the map behind him and Isaac, which detailed the possibilities of why the Alpha Pack was there. He saw some scribbled notes about gathering Betas, wanting the territory, recruiting, and other logical, but Derek didn't care. He wanted to know where Stiles was. Stiles, for all intents and purposes, was part of this pack. He should be at a pack meeting.

"I don't think that's really important right now, Derek. We need to focus, to create a plan," Scott replied. 

People didn't really give Scott enough credit, he thought. Derek had been caught off guard both times by Scott's plans to save everyone. He claimed to have no idea what he was doing, but he'd be a better Alpha than Derek. Which caused Derek to resent him a little bit. Just a little. Mostly he wanted Scott to accept that they were brothers now, that they shared something amazing and wonderful, but also to be honest with him. Scott obviously knew where Stiles was, and when Derek looked to Isaac shifting uncomfortably he got the idea they _all_ knew. 

"Isaac?" he asked lowly. 

The pretty, curly haired boy opened his mouth and then closed it with a small, pained noise. He looked to Scott, who gave him a warning scowl, and then to Erica, who gave him a strange look. "On a date," he squeezed out. 

Derek knew he did not do a good job hiding his need, want, and arousal when Stiles was around. He knew he didn't because he couldn't hide the smell of it from his Betas. However he didn't think they'd ever point it out or lead on that they noticed; he assumed they knew just as well as he why the feelings wouldn't amount to anything. Ever. 

"What?"

The word sounded weak and pained on his tongue, and he prayed it sounded angrier than that. 

Scott huffed and threw his hands up. "Stiles is on a date with one of the fucking Alpha twins. Okay? Okay great. _Can we focus_?"

Derek's body stiffened. He wanted to run. He wanted to leave the loft, chase after Stiles's scent, and break up whatever was going on. He wanted to make up an excuse about why the pack needed him and remove Stiles from whatever precarious and stupid situation he'd gotten himself into. However he couldn't. He had pack business. He had six faces looking to him for guidance and organization, so he walked, jerky and uneasy, to his chair and nodded. Swallowing hard Derek sat down and looked the chart over. "So you think they want the territory? That doesn't make sense. If that was all they would've attacked already."

\-------

Every single time Derek saw any of the pack members, but Stiles especially, he'd emphasized to stay away from them. It was to ensure that his pack wasn't the one to start anything. If one of his pack members accepted a gift or invitation or did something less agreeable, there would be consequences. Now Stiles had gone on a date with one of the twins. And when Derek went to his house to make sure he was alright he learned not only did he have sex with one, but both of them. The pain that wracked his body had been incredible. Derek thought he might fall over when the musky stench of their seeds hit him, when he saw Stiles, pink and wrecked, sleeping there, indents on either side where the twins had been. The Alpha left because he couldn't stand it. He couldn't bear to see Stiles like that, to hear his raspy, sex-tired voice shout about how no one else cared or showed him attention. 

So he tried to stay away from Stiles. He stopped inviting the human to pack meetings and he stopped hosting them at a time Stiles could come. He decided he'd go to Lydia for whatever he needed, outside of what he couldn't manage himself. 

Two weeks went by and that seemed just fine by Stiles. He never called or texted or complained about not getting to go. He was always with _Aiden._ The few times he tried to threaten the twin he was met with a cocky smile and a laugh. He just held Stiles's hand tighter, kissed him longer, or threw a casual idea out about what Derek should be doing. Something more important and life saving than cock-blocking Stiles. 

Like fighting Deucalion. Or stopping Deucalion from pitting him and Scott against each other. 

Derek felt like all he ever did anymore was fend of surprise meetings with Deucalion or Kali, argue with Scott, and worry about where the hell Stiles was. It wasn't healthy and it was starting to take its toll. He didn't sleep, hardly ate, and was paler and thinner than he'd probably ever been in his life. 

One day when Scott yelled at him about not doing enough Derek just snapped. He roared and lunged himself at the teenager, who barely managed to fall onto his back and kick Derek in the stomach to throw him away. All Derek did was care. All he did was try to keep Erica and Boyd feeling safe and welcome. All he did was try to convince Scott they'd make a good team. All he did was worry Isaac finally had a safe sense of family and that Allison wasn't going to snap, that Lydia wasn't going to tell anyone and Jackson wasn't going to wolf out in the middle of a game to show off. All he did was concern himself with Stiles's well being and try to warn him away from dating the other Alpha by taking other things away, which might not have been the best idea but Derek didn't know what else to do. He was twenty-four. He wasn't a fucking parent. 

So he dug his claws into Scott's shoulders and chucked him across the heavily wooded forest. Scott came back with a torn, bloody shirt and tackled Derek to the ground. Tired and worn thin Derek wasn't a strong as he should be with a pack this big. A broken pack was all it really was, anyway. He was a failure as a friend, as a werewolf, and as an Alpha. He took it all out on Scott, too, which he knew he’d regret later.

It took all four of the other Betas and wolfsbane powder Lydia had used under Peter's control to subdue him. 

\------

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?"

Two days later he still felt out of it. His stomach hurt, his head throbbed, and Derek hadn't gotten out of bed the whole time. Scott came by and tried to get Derek to talk. He knew something was wrong, knew it was about more than this Alpha Pack thing, but Derek just rolled over and stared at the brick wall across the room. Erica bounced on top of him to get him to stop sulking but he barely had energy to get annoyed. Lydia and Jackson hadn't been by at all, which he was kind of grateful for, and Isaac got him water ever now and again when he noticed the glass was empty. 

Now Stiles was here, flailing his arms around and stomping so loudly it hurt his ears. 

"Go away Stiles," he grunted, rolling away from the teenager. 

It was so painful to smell Stiles again, to feel his presence. It'd always been so warm and comforting and it still was. He hated it, but it still was. The few times they'd crossed paths or Derek smelled him on someone else Aiden's scent was always there, lingering and strong. Now it wasn't, like Stiles had just showered or done laundry, or he'd broken up with Aiden. The hope, treacherous thing it was, rose inside him and clogged his throat. 

His eyes fluttered closed and he huffed exasperatedly when he heard Stiles coming like a train around the bed. 

"No. You tell me why the fuck you attacked my best friend!" he screamed, getting into Derek's face. 

Derek hesitated. He could feel Stiles close, less than a foot away. It would be easy to reach out, grab him, and kiss him. To taste and lick away all nasty traces of Aiden's tongue. According to Isaac's spying they didn't have sex again yet, but Derek knew they were fooling around anyway. He could see it in the more confident, glowing way Stiles carried himself down the halls of the school and across the parking lot after school. 

No. He was _not_ stalking a sixteen year old boy. 

Derek groaned because yes, okay, he was, and rolled away from Stiles's loud voice and pleasant smell. His insides twisted and burned hot as he thought about how nice it was to have Stiles around again, to have him near. Even if it was to yell at him for wrongfully attacking his friend. 

The weight of the mattress shifted suddenly and Derek felt a warm hand against his bare shoulder. Stiles jumped atop him, straddling his waist and pinning big, thin hands against his shoulders. His face was red and twisted in anger. Those pretty pink lips pursed together tightly and clever honey amber eyes sparkled furiously at him. 

"If you don't explain yourself I'm going to go to Allison's, get whatever wolfsbane bullets she has left, and destroy you _myself_ ," he spat. 

Fear. It was the first thing that struck him when he looked up at Stiles with wide eyes. He meant it. There was no lie or hesitation in that threat. Stiles was going to hurt Derek, to the best of his abilities, if Derek didn't explain why he'd attacked Scott. Even though there really was no explanation. The Alpha swallowed hard and licked his lips. He didn't know what his face looked like, but it made Stiles's resolve falter, and sit back. 

Derek grunted when he did because he wasn't exactly wearing any clothes, and Stiles's jeans rubbed uncomfortably in all the right places. 

"We got into an argument," he mumbled. Stiles rolled his eyes and Derek sighed, pursing his mouth into a tight line. "That's all it was. He said something that made me lose it, and I've apologized already, so--"

"You have not."

The tone struck him more than the words. It was defiant, but teasing in a way. Like Stiles always had been. 

"How do you know?"

"Because I find it hard to believe the broody, silent, always-right Derek Hale would apologize for anything," he said with a wide, confident smirk. 

Derek scoffed, biting back a smile of his own, and shrugged. He hated to admit how comfortable it was to have Stiles sitting on him, talking to him like this. He brought up his arms and folded his hands behind his head, looking up at the pretty teenager. He looked good, healthy. Stiles had always been on the thin side but he was starting to fill out more, grow up and thicken with muscle. His arms had more definition and the normally baggy tee shirts stretched tighter across his shoulders. His waist was still narrow and enticing, and his ass felt like he'd been doing squats, very tight and full against his crotch. 

"What do you want, Stiles?" he asked, his voice falling back into thin fatigue. 

Stiles's smile twitched and his eyes stopped sparkling in the same way. "I wanted to beat the shit out of you," he declared, making Derek snort again, "but now I kind of feel sorry for you." 

Derek stiffened and looked away. He wanted to shove Stiles off him, but couldn't will himself to do it, so he lied there and sucked in his bottom lip looking away. "I don't need your pity," he grumbled. 

Stiles sighed in that heavy way he did when someone wasn't understanding him. He wiggled down and Derek grunted again, unsure if Stiles understood whether or not he wasn't wearing clothes and that was getting increasingly uncomfortable. "That's not what I mean," he complained, dragging out the 'n'. 

"I just mean you have a lot on your plate right now with Erica and Boyd's return, training Jackson, and trying to keep two packs of werewolves a secret in a small town," he explained. "And I know it's not something any of you want, but Aiden's not so bad. He treats me really well and I'm pretty sure he's half the reason they haven't made a move against you guys yet. If you think about it, really, our relationship is buying you time. You can figure out how to work with Deucalion or whatever, and hopefully people won't die as often as last year," he suggested with a shrug. "I get it Derek, you're stressed out. More than you deserve to be, but don't take it out on my best friend again. Or else," he threatened with a wide smile, poking his finger against Derek's nose. 

It was fine until Stiles mentioned Aiden, and even then Derek couldn't get mad. No one was as observant as Stiles. No one understood him the way Stiles did. Or if they did they were assholes and pretended they didn't care. Stiles did. He understood and was trying to find that small, sliver of a silver lining in their gloomy sky. Derek couldn't stop himself, though; he playfully reached out and nipped the tip of Stiles's finger before it could poke his nose. 

"Hey!" Stiles cried indignantly. He brought the offended finger to his eyes to scrutinize. It wasn't even pink; he'd barely touched it. 

"Sorry," he apologized sarcastically, snorting as he grabbed Stiles's wrist. Derek brought the hand to his face and looked at it before kissing the finger. 

A hot flash of arousal flashed through them both. It made the room stuffy and warm. Derek heard Stiles's heart flutter in his chest and he shifted, subtly, against Derek's crotch. Derek let out a small noise, chest flushing as he finally felt those movements taking effect. "Stiles," he breathed, looking up at the boy. Derek's gaze wandered over Stiles's face and his hands uncertainly rested on Stiles's knees. 

"Yeah?" Stiles asked. He could tell he was trying to keep his voice still, but failed all the same. His heart thundered in his chest like a stampede of wild horses. Derek watched those amber eyes skim over his bare chest and shoulders and neck. Stiles looked hungry. 

"Do you love Aiden?"

The question made the space between them thicker, tenser. He didn't know why he asked, but he didn't take it back. Stiles's hands fell between his legs, knuckles dragging against Derek's bare flesh. It made the Alpha gasp sharply. His skin prickled with electricity. It skirted across his skin and jumped onto Stiles's hands, making the human's arm hair stand on end and bumps rise on his skin. 

"Why?"

Not "yes", not "no", not even a "maybe", which was what Derek expected. Instead he wanted to know why Derek wanted to know. At this point Derek knew, too, that Stiles could feel Derek's erection pushing up between his legs, uncomfortably against denim. He could tell because he saw a small bulge forming in Stiles's front (though he knew from before Stiles wasn't _small_ ) and Stiles kept rocking gently back against it. 

It was now or never, wasn't it? Derek felt like an old creep and wrong for loving Stiles. But if he said it now maybe Stiles would break up with Aiden and they could try to figure this out. Stiles looked nervous, like he was anticipating something he'd been waiting ages for but couldn't believe might be said. Derek knew that anxiety too well. He licked his lips and slid his hands up Stiles's thighs, looking intently at them. "Because I don't want you to," he replied softly. His hands started to massage Stiles's thighs, timidly creeping upwards. 

Stiles sighed and his hips bucked ever so slightly into the touch, wanting more. Craving it. Derek smelled the arousal pouring off him now, the eager want. "Why?" he pushed, smiling when Derek rolled his eyes and huffed. 

Of course Stiles would make him say it. Stiles would make him spit out the words and he guessed that was fair. Derek looked up, surprised to see Stiles staring down at him carefully, eyes locked hungrily onto his lips. His long fingers kept ghosting across his sternum and chest in a silky brush of barely-there. "He's not right for you," Derek insisted. 

His hands slid up farther when Stiles leaned down, putting his weight on his hands and Derek's groin. Derek tried not to shift or make a noise, but he let his hands slid up against that bump in Stiles's jeans. "Who is then?" Stiles challenged. 

Derek's chest heaved and his breathing was shallow. He was nervous. He felt sweaty and uncertain and gross. He wished he'd showered before Stiles came over, feeling stale and slick from being in bed for two days. He licked his lips, watching Stiles's eyes monitor the movement like a hawk. "I think.... I think I--"

" _What the hell do I do this for? (WOOoo)_

_You're just another guy. (WOOoo)_

_OK, you're kind of sexy_ _  
_But you're not really special_ _

_But I won't mind--"_

"Shit."

Stiles rolled off Derek with more grace than he usually possessed and sat on the edge of the bed. He rubbed a heel hard against his crotch and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Derek didn't see whose name was on the screen, but he didn't have to. Stiles answered it quickly and cleared his throat. 

"Hey handsome."

Derek's heart paused for a beat and then slowly sunk down to his toes. He sat up and stared at Stiles's back. How could this happen? How could they be having a moment like that, where Derek was so ready and about to tell Stiles he loved him, and he felt so certain Stiles would say it back-- and then this? Stiles was in a relationship. That was how. Derek had known he couldn't wait forever, and this probably wasn't the right time anyway, but the reality was too much to bear. 

"Yeah. No I'm not doing anything. I was just checking on Scott," he lied so easily, though that was probably just because they were over the phone. And it wasn't really a lie, was it? "I'll be home in like fifteen minutes. Sure--" he stopped to laugh, loud and honest like Derek never got him to do, "that sounds great. I'm looking forward to it." And he was. 

Fuck you too Stiles. 

By the time Stiles was off the phone Derek was in the bathroom with the door locked and the shower water running. He heard Stiles approach the door. He must have lifted his hand to knock but changed his mind, because he heard Stiles's hand drag against the wooden grain. 

"Sorry sourwolf," he heard Stiles whisper to the door. That wasn't a lie either. 

He thumped his forehead against the cold tile wall of the shower, released a long, low breath, and let the lukewarm water pound down against him. He let his arms dangle in front of him. Derek stared at the floor beneath his toes, noticing the slight soap scum build up. It became fuzzy, blurring against the otherwise pristine white tub. Sniffing, he stood up straight and roughly rubbed the back of his hand against his burning eyes. Stiles was not his. Stiles was not going to be his. 

Not unless he tried. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is a note to clear up something.  
> I know a lot of the fandom assumes Derek's about 22-23, and that he was 16 and Kate was 22 when the whole thing happened. It's a nice parallel to his and Stiles's potential relationship, I agree.  
> However I've done my own math, looked at Kate's tombstone (she's like 28 in s1), and looked at Derek's license in "Formality" (I think that's the ep); it's blurry but it either says 1988 or 1986, which means he's 24 or 26. That's the timeline I'm going for, for this particular series. I know some people say the license is fake/might be, but idc. That's what I'm going with.   
> Previously Erica was alive, Jackson was around, and things were better. Due to how I'm ending this series things have changed. Sorry. ;~;
> 
>  
> 
> I also wish my Failwolf Friday writings could be, like... happier? Haha. This is only the second one I've done and it's sad. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this series and all the support you guys have given me. It means a lot<3
> 
> Stiles's ringtone is Ida Maria's [I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VkVy2FeqIyc)
> 
>  **EDITED** 'cause some of you graciously (no really I appreciate it. I need to reread things before I post sometimes) pointed out I needed to. Keep the criticism (constructive) coming. I want to be a better writer.  
>  Also kind of like this ending better? It's not, as Jag pointed out, sappy and like a teenage girl. Maybe a little more optimistic?


End file.
